Music reached up to greet her before all else, music more gorgeous than anything she had ever before heard. That, at least, would be a real pleasure of the evening—the opportunity to hear the kingdom’s most talented musicians working their magic on various instruments.
The next moment, she came to the edge of the balcony overlooking the ballroom, and the sight struck her with such a wave of intimidation that she nearly lost the will to move! Such colors! Such movement! Such light! It was all too much, too overwhelming. The noblest lords and ladies of four kingdoms milled around below, some dancing, some talking, some partaking of delicacies from the refreshment tables. Eliana had thought her own garments rich, but now she felt poor and shabby indeed as she looked upon all the jewels and furs.
King Hendry and his queen stood partway up the stair, receiving visitors as they arrived. They wore coronets upon their heads and ermine-lined cloaks over their shoulders. Their masks were of a lion and a tiger, but they weren’t large enough masks to effectively hide the identity of either monarch.
And just beyond them stood Prince Ellis. But Eliana couldn’t get a good glimpse of him.
One of the men-at-arms coughed. Taking the hint, Eliana galvanized her limbs back into motion, allowing her escort to lead her down the stair. King Hendry turned at her approach, his mustache lifting with a smile of greeting. “Ah! Lady Gold-Spinner!”
The queen turned at her husband’s voice, and both greeted Eliana warmly. Eliana curtsied the best she knew how, feeling what a poor offering it was. Miller’s daughters were not trained in the social niceties of court, and she could tell by the way the queen blinked that she had not quite got it right.
King Hendry took her by the hand, however, and raised her to her feet. “Away with you,” he told the men-at-arms, dismissing them. “And you, dear girl, must enjoy yourself tonight,” he continued, patting Eliana’s hand. “I hope you are well recovered from your labors?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Elaina said softly. She decided not to mention the headaches which still plagued her every time she thought about those hazy three nights she’d spent with the spinning wheel.
“Good, good!” said Hendry, his smile widening. “Now continue on your way in, and be certain to make your best curtsy to Ellis as you go. He is most anxious to meet you and will, no doubt, beg you the honor of a dance.”
Eliana felt as though her heart would burst from between her ribs. She curtsied again to both king and queen then, clutching her skirts so hard that her fingers hurt, continued down the steps.
A cluster of people surrounded Prince Ellis, who stood on the third step of the stairway, above the rest of the crowd but lower than his parents. Eliana could just catch a glimpse of a blue mask that seemed vaguely aquatic—a sea god, perhaps? The king had commanded her to make herself known to the prince, and she did not think she could disobey so easily. The small cluster of people, seeing her approach, whispered and made way so that a path cleared itself before her. There was nothing for it! She must meet the prince.
Eliana bravely lifted her chin and started forward . . . when suddenly she found herself standing no longer on the stair but on the other side of the ballroom. Open doors stood behind her; turning her head, she looked out into cool, lush gardens. Looking ahead at the crowded ballroom, she could just see the stairway where the royal family stood.
Had she curtsied to the prince? She couldn’t quite remember but didn’t think she had. Had she even seen him? How had she come to be here? She frowned behind her mask, feeling a little faint and very uncertain of herself.
She did not see the golden-haired woman who laughed to herself and darted away among the ball guests, leaving behind no trace save for an exotic and intoxicating perfume.
Eliana decided not to try to make her way back to the stair. If Prince Ellis wished to seek her out he may, but she wasn’t obligated to attract his attention. She moved quietly among the guests on the edge of the ballroom, avoiding their curious gazes whenever they turned her way. She looked for but did not see Mistress Carlyn or her two stepsisters, though she did not doubt they had turned up in their shabby best to rub elbows with the elite.
After no more than half an hour of quietly making herself seem smaller than she was, Eliana stood once more near the garden door, longing to slip out into the coolness of the night and wander among the blooming shrubs and trees. Movement caught her eye, and she turned to see a man at least two heads taller than she was approach and bow to her. His mask shaped like several oak leaves was bronzed over.
“What is a lovely lady like you doing away from everyone else?” said he. “You should be socializing with all the young men. I hear that the prince himself is perusing the crowds tonight, seeking a proper bride.” He smiled at her.
For a moment she thought perhaps she recognized that smile. But the moment passed.
“I cannot find courage within myself,” she admitted softly, ducking her head. “Since the crowds are so pressing, it did not seem worth it.”
“I’ve just come from the depths of the throng myself,” he said, “and I am sorry to confirm that what you say is true.” He offered her something, and she realized that he had brought her a glass of sweet cider. She accepted it gratefully, and he, taking her smile as encouragement, leaned against a pillar next to her. “All of this shouting, beguiling, and dancing is enough to make one die from overstimulation.”
Eliana chuckled at this exaggeration. “But you must be used to it by now,” she said. “This is my very first ball.”
The stranger bowed his head. “Then it is a pleasure to share the experience with you. May I ask your name, my lady?”
She wondered if she should call herself Lady Gold-Spinner, as the king and the ladies-in-waiting had referred to her. But she would not officially receive the title until the third night of the ball, so perhaps she need not claim it yet. “My name is Eliana,” she said instead.
“That is a beautiful name.”
The sensation of familiarity struck her again. With it came the very faintest edge of pain around her temples. She shook this away quickly, taking a sip of cool cider. But she could not stop herself from asking, “May I ask your name in return, good sir?”
The man did not answer right away, and the smile that slowly spread across his face was not altogether happy.
Just then, a group of dancing couples stumbled a bit too far from the dancing floor, nearly bumping into the pair. The man in the oak-leaf mask quickly jumped in front of Eliana, pushing back the giddy gentry when they pressed too close. Eliana blushed deeply behind her mask, looking down into her cider glass, afraid to look anywhere else lest her eyes betray her. The oak-leaf man turned to make certain she was all right.
“I’m fine,” she answered quickly. “Just a bit startled.”
Her question was forgotten in the tumult. The oak-leaf man began to entertain her by pointing out the people of particular note milling about amid the masses. The one in the wolf mask, he told her, governed the province of Flostrin, and the fair hawk beside him was his wife—a much younger woman than her lordly husband, though the way she patted his arm seemed fond enough. They were rumored to be quite a doting pair despite the age difference, the oak-leaf man confided to Eliana.
Now the portly man laughing robustly was the Duke of Dravint, his good humor unable to be disguised even by the ferocious boar mask he wore. And that woman wearing a fox mask? She was the lovely princess of Syntorell. Rumor had it she had come tonight hoping to snare Prince Ellis for herself.
On and on the list went, from the earl in the stag mask to the baronet wearing the face of a hare. And for each one the oak-leaf man related some sort of secret quirk or fact to interest and entertain Eliana.
The hours flew swiftly past. Everyone grew louder, attempting to make their voices heard, until the deafening roar throbbed in Eliana’s ears. Nausea slithered in her stomach and slid up her throat. The air was thick with the stench of a hundred and more people gathered in too small a place, ma
king it difficult for her to breathe.
The oak-leaf man touched her arm in concern. “Are you feeling unwell?”
Eliana tried bravely to brush off the nausea and take a step. But the dizziness returned tenfold. She shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry. The heat . . .”
“Let us step outside into the garden then,” said he. “Fresh air should set you right.”
Once escaped from the thunderous sounds and the smells, Eliana could breathe and think again. She drew a deep breath and slumped down onto a bench beside a trellis of sweet peas. The pretty pink flowers looked red in the torchlight, and the man’s mask took on a magical gleam. She could see his eyes sparkling through the eye holes.
“Thank you so much,” she said, still sounding a little weak. “It was suffocating in there.”
“It is my pleasure, dear lady. Considering this is your first ball, you have done quite well. I did not last so long my first time!”
“How long did you last?”
He laughed. “I ran off before the herald finished introducing me.”
Eliana laughed as well, covering her mouth with her hand. It felt odd to have the mask on, but she dared not take it off. No one was supposed to remove their masks until the third night Reveal.
The man took a seat on the bench beside her and leaned his head far back, gazing up into the sky. “The stars are beautiful tonight,” he whispered.
Eliana followed his upward gaze to see the clear dark blanket of night. Constellations shone brightly like falling snowflakes. “I’ve never seen the sky so clear before,” she said. Where she had grown up, the forests were too thick for such an astral view.
“Now that is a shame,” said her companion. He smiled at her suddenly and, standing, held out his hand. “I was wondering, if I might be so bold . . . Would you honor me with this dance, my lady?”
The music was still audible over the ruckus inside. The strings hummed and the horns sang low. It was a spritely air that sang to Eliana’s very heart! Her feet could not resist, and she accepted his outstretched hand, allowing him to pull her lightly to her feet.
Few men had ever danced with her before. Her father did not count, since she’d been a little girl, hardly up to his waist, and he’d been teaching her. She still felt like a little girl, for her head scarcely reached this man’s shoulder, and she tripped over his feet once or twice. But he did not correct her. He only smiled with great enthusiasm as if she were the greatest dancer in the world and it was a pleasure simply to be with her.
Eliana felt her heart stir with an emotion both familiar and unfamiliar all at once. What was this feeling? Was it love? Certainly not the deep love that couples often marry for; that sort of love takes a little more time. But it might be the kind of love someone feels when meeting with genuine kindness after months and years of receiving no affection at all.
The music slowed and faded from their hearing. The oak-leaf man smiled and bowed elegantly, sweeping his short cape like the wings of a pretty songbird. Eliana laughed and curtsied back, a more graceful curtsy than she’d ever before managed. Something about this man and his nearness gave her confidence and, in turn, grace.
“Thus concludes my time here with you, Lady Eliana,” said her companion. “I’m afraid I must be going.”
“Oh. You are leaving me?” Eliana wished she could somehow retrieve the words, embarrassed that she would speak so boldly.
But the oak-leaf man’s eyes glinted behind his bronze mask. “I could never leave you,” he said, his voice strangely deep and serious. “But I must depart for now. I promise to return tomorrow. And in the meanwhile . . .”
He took Eliana by the hand. The next instant, something cool slipped onto her finger.
“To remember me by,” the oak-leaf man whispered.
Eliana blinked. In that brief lowering of her lashes, he vanished. Though she looked all around the garden for him, she saw not even the briefest glimpse of his fluttering cloak or a gleam of light shining off his mask. From somewhere distant she heard the toll of a distant church bell booming out the hour: twelve deep, rolling tones.
Eliana looked down at her hand. There on her finger gleamed a bright gold ring.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Forgotten Memories
The stroke of twelve resounded in the mortal world, and the rolling vibrations rippled through time and space. A doorway opened between worlds, and the faerie captain, no longer clad in festival finery, stepped back into the darkness of his dungeon cell.
Queen Titania sat upon a lowly bench waiting for him. Her presence made that bench seem like a throne.
“Well, brave swain?” said she, smiling to see him appear. “You have fulfilled your part of this bargain and returned no later than midnight. But how were those intermittent hours whiled away? Satisfactorily, I trust?”
The nameless faerie took the oak-leaf mask from his face. The moment he did so, it fell into pieces, dried oak leaves drifting to the ground at his feet. His expression, now revealed, was not full of the happy smiles Titania had anticipated.
“I don’t think it worked,” he said sadly, forgetting to bow in the presence of his queen. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I placed the ring upon her finger, and I hoped the power of her mother’s gift would be enough to counter King Oberon’s spell. But I don’t believe she remembered me.”
Titania’s lovely face twisted in a momentary scowl. Then she shook this away with a smile more brilliant than usual. “Well, it was worth a try. And I have more tricks up my sleeve!”
So saying, she moved her trailing sleeve, revealing the shining object upon which the green-eyed faerie had been working the last several days of his imprisonment. “Coming along nicely, I should say,” she purred, touching it lightly with one finger. “Will the other be ready by the time I stipulated?”
“I believe so, Your Majesty,” the green-eyed faerie said. “As long as—”
He broke off when Titania sat suddenly upright, one hand upraised. The next instant, his queen vanished, her body blending into the stones of the wall and the floor, her hair becoming nothing more than moss and lichen. She disappeared so completely that the green-eyed man almost forgot she had been sitting there at all. He opened his mouth, puzzled, uncertain what to say or do . . .
The dungeon door opened behind him. King Oberon’s voice spoke: “Well, captain, have you learned your lesson?”
A thrill of terror electrified the captain so that he momentarily could neither speak or move. Then he whirled and bowed deeply to his king, who stood in the doorway, arms folded. “Your Majesty!” he exclaimed. “I—I—”
“Certainly is gloomy enough in here,” said King Oberon, looking around the cell, his mouth curled with distaste. “How long have I had you holed up? I forget.”
“Well,” said the captain. He didn’t want to say that the time had been nowhere near so long as he’d expected. Nor did he want to say that it was ages, for he hated to lie.
King Oberon did not seem to expect an answer. “I need you back on duty,” he said. “No one keeps the men in line as well as you do, and I don’t want to be caught short-handed should the goblins decide to pay us an unwelcome visit. So if you’ve quite learned to behave yourself, I’ll let you out. Agreed?”
The nameless faerie bowed again, his deepest, most graceful bow. “I will endeavor in all things to conduct myself with honor and integrity,” he said with deep sincerity.
Satisfied, Oberon beckoned him out. He did not seem to notice that his man no longer wore the heavy fetters with which he himself had bound him. His mind was occupied with the intrigues of the faerie court, both big and small, and he could not even fully recall why he had punished his captain in the first place.
So the two of them exited the dungeons and climbed the winding stairs. When they had gone, a certain patch of stones, shadows, and moss resolved back into the lovely face and form of Titania.
She laughed to herself with utmost delight. There was nothing in all the wo
rlds she enjoyed more than thwarting her husband’s tyrannical will! Indeed, she knew he would not love her half so well if she were not skilled at making his life difficult.
What a delicious game this had turned into!
“Oh, my lady! Did you have the most wonderful time?”
Eliana, relieved to find only Martha waiting for her when she at last returned to the quiet of her own rooms, sank into a chair and pulled the mask from her face. Seeing how flushed her lady was, Martha hastened to bring her a glass of water, which Eliana accepted gratefully.
“Was it more beautiful than beautiful?” Martha asked, eager for details. “I tried to sneak to the balcony rail and get a peek, but the housekeeper saw me and shooed me away. I heard the music though! And I glimpsed some of the fine ladies in their gowns. It must have been a garden of delights!”
No answer presented itself to Eliana. How could she explain the overwhelming crush of people? The heat? The fear?
And how could she explain the exquisite beauty of a kind man’s voice? Of a gentle hand leading her out into the cool of the garden? How could she explain the loveliness of sweet-pea blossoms compared to the jewels of all the ladies of all the realms?
Martha, sensing her lady’s exhaustion, prattled on sweetly without pressing for answers even as she helped Eliana out of her gown and brushed out her long hair, preparing her for bed. But she could not resist asking at one point, “Did my lady meet the prince?”
“Well . . . no,” Eliana admitted. And this was strange, she considered in the privacy of her mind. After all, King Hendry required her presence only so that she would meet and marry his son. Yet somehow she had managed to pass the whole night without a single interaction with Prince Ellis.
“That is a shame,” Martha said, putting back the covers of Eliana’s bed and then tucking her lady in. “Prince Ellis is such a fine man. No doubt you will meet him tomorrow night and dance with him too.”
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